


Two People Sitting, Doing Nothing

by tepidspongebath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Fluff, Inspired by Florence + the Machine, M/M, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tepidspongebath/pseuds/tepidspongebath
Summary: Wherein quiet, uneventful mornings can be the best possible things.





	Two People Sitting, Doing Nothing

The quiet mornings were the best.

Well, to be perfectly honest, there were quite a lot things that could, without, prevarication, be considered the best thing about a life with Sherlock Holmes, and, given time, John would be happy to weigh the merits of nighttime chases up and down fire escapes and witnessing that final flash of brilliance that finally solved a case.

But the problem with ~~_blissfully_~~ chasing criminals with the love of your life in the moonlight was that it was over too soon (and, frankly, you were too busy worrying if you would 1) catch them, and 2) not be killed, especially if they were better armed and if Sherlock was feeling especially reckless). And the sex, and the intimacy that came with it, was brilliant, so much so that John found himself wondering what on _earth_ he could have done to deserve Sherlock after a lifetime where he'd spent far too long chasing after _normal_ , and that all too quickly tipped into a rushing fear that this was _too_ good and might, at any moment, be taken away.

And then there were bad days. Couldn’t get around those, not with their temperaments, even if it did help that neither of them had to carry the baggage alone, as it were. There would inevitably be times when Sherlock fell into a deep, gray, all-encompassing sulk, or when John didn’t have as good a handle on his temper as he liked.

But the quiet mornings - the ones where they could take their time, when Sherlock made tea while John did the eggs and toast, and the two of them could linger at the table, talking of nothing in particular or even not talking at all - those filled the spaces in between with little slices of stillness that made everything else better and _real_.

Two people sitting, doing nothing.

That wouldn’t ever make it to the blog - much too uneventful, unless John ever felt the need to inflict his recipe for fried eggs, slightly burnt around the edges, on the world. But having this, for this moment, was enough for John, and knowing that Sherlock felt the same way made this the best of all possible worlds.

He sipped his tea, in his chair across the table from Sherlock, letting the delicious, comfortable warmth settle inside and around him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A short one, then. This was inspired by, and the title taken from, [Florence + the Machine's _No Choir_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AexrAvyJjJY), which is so sweet and lovely, and my mind went immediately to the domesticity of 221B Baker Street. Fluff isn't what I normally gravitate to, but this song makes me a little maudlin and sentimental and there is a large-ish bug crawling across my computer screen, help.


End file.
